He went up to bed. In times past he could have obtained his remedy.
Where lay his remedy now? The law could do nothing; there remained only physical force.
A wheezy pug dog protected by a woman’s skirts, that is what George du Telle was. Leslie knew that if once he could catch the brute by the scruff of the neck, the only struggle would be with himself as to the limits of chastisement to be inflicted.
If he could only get him away from Jane up a back street anywhere, just for five minutes! The thing was to be done. With the help of the astute M’Gourley he felt it was to be done, and would be done on the morrow.
He got up and went to a rack on the wall where he kept his sticks, and took down a whangee cane half an inch thick, a most efficient instrument for the chastisement of a brute. He made it sing through the air, then he put it on the rack again and returned to bed, and slept soundly, far more soundly than he had slept the night before.
CHAPTER XXIV
GEORGE DU TELLE
He was awakened by voices. Sunlight was streaming into the room, the sparrows were bickering round the trees, and from below came the voice of Pine-breeze crying, “Irashi, condescend to enter!”